The math here isn’t complicated, but it is devastating. We have a system where a bureaucrat first cherry-picks your file, followed by a "bookmarker" with a GED who further strips away the evidence, leaving the medical examiner flying blind with a fraction of the truth. It is a calculated game of telephone where the Veteran’s voice—and their medical history—gets lost in translation. Eric didn’t just lose a claim; he nearly lost his life to a bureaucracy that prefers "tabbed" convenience over clinical accuracy. As long as the VA continues to gatekeep records from the very doctors hired to review them, the process remains a farce. I’m not here to make friends with the bookmarkers or the bureaucrats; I’m here to flip the lights on in their ivory tower. The "nameless and faceless" might not like my methods, but until every Veteran gets an exam based on the whole truth rather than a curated snippet, I’m not putting this cigar out.

This is how I image it went down. Picture it like this. Doug Collins is in his big new office on Vermont Avenue. Way up in the Ivory Tower. He’s cleaning out Denis’s old desk. A few paperclips left behind, an old sticky note. Maybe even an old family photo—a note about some final project McDonough was working on before his tenure ended when ole’ Joe’s did. Doug takes a look around and shakes his head in disapproval. This place hasn’t been serving Veterans. “PowerPoints and committees,” he says as he wads up that sticky note, tossing it into the trash, “that’s all they’ve been doing here,” he gripes. “We’re about to change that.” He picks up the phone and says “get me someone at the Board. Anyone, now!”

The rule is simple, it gives Veterans a choice: you can take medication and get treatment that helps you, or you can keep your benefits, but you can’t keep both. That is what this interim rule does; this is what it advocates for. Secretary Collins has often noted that a big reason the VA is broken is no one ever does anything. The VA makes a committee to “study” an issue, and no action ever comes from it, or the VA will “closely monitor” a situation, only to never do anything.

Long time no speak—sorry—I have been tossing a hot potato back and forth for Phil, a good ‘ole Vietnam Veteran. Phil is eat up with the Parkinson’s Disease. He shakes like a leaf from head to toe. Hell. During the hearing, he just tried to hold up his hand, shaking back and forth, and the judge just interrupted, “I understand, sir.” Phil was already getting aid and attendance when he came to me, but was missing that sweet SMC (r)(1). You’d think as bad off as he was, it was a done deal. Well. I think you know that the story isn’t so nice and easy.

Let me guess, you got a letter in the mail, “Important—Reply Needed Within 30 Days.” The problem? There is a 100% chance it doesn’t say exactly what the VA needs, and leaves you more confused than anything. Welcome to the VA’s version of “clear and concise!” I can’t tell you how many e-mails I have gotten over the years, “the VA sent a letter saying they need something, but it doesn’t even say what they need.” Many Veterans open this letter and immediately worry. Does this mean my claim is denied? Did they lose my evidence? Do I need to start over?

While the Washington Post has been busy publishing hit piece after hit piece on Veterans, my friends and I have been busy continuing to fight for you fine folk. On the flip side of things, the other W.P.—Washington Politicians, seem to have a "gift" ready for everyone to celebrate Veteran’s day—a budget! How nice of them. Imagine this. You’re waiting on the VA to get your claim right so you can get the bank off your back. The VA denied your VR&E appeal, saying you are too disabled to go back to work (no duh). So, you just don’t have any money coming in. You call up the bank and say sorry, you will just have to wait. The wife and I just can’t agree on a budget right now! How long do you think the bank is waiting? I doubt they are waiting some forty-one plus days. The good news? After Turkey Day is over, it looks like we are going to get to do this whole thing over again on January 30, 2026. To me, fall is the best. College football, hockey, bonfires, getting together with family. Of course, Veteran’s Day, Thanksgiving. The two days go like peas and carrots.

It seems like the closer we get to 2026, the more my stupid radar has been going off. While the VA has been busy telling you that benefits aren’t effected by the shutdown, despite education benefits not being paid, upper level compensation supervisors being furloughed, and getting "auto replies" from the Board, Secretary Collins has been a busy man it seems. Busy ending presumptive benefits for one of the nastiest diseases—breast cancer, but, just for the men. Ladies reading this, you are apparently safe, for now. With the stroke of a real pen (no autopen used here), Secretary Collins has undone presumptive service-connection for male breast cancer. This doesn’t help empower women—it hurts real Veterans. Cancer doesn’t pick political sides.

VA loves to think it’s above the law—but that’s not the case. When it takes that position it dishonors its core mission, along with wasting valuable resources better used elsewhere. Nor is it a public works program for bureaucrats as they spin hamster wheels for veterans and our families, much as it comes across as such all too often.  Rather, it is a vital department of the U.S. government tasked with a sacred duty. Unfortunately, it routinely subverts that fact by twisting legal basics leading to the incorrect denial of key benefits like educational ones, as if saving itself money is its prime directive.

I remember reading Profiles in Courage in high school. Boy, they just don’t make men like they used to. What a month. I really wasn’t prepared for this spooky of a Halloween season. The VA sure is slick. You release the Philadelphia OIG report just before the shutdown, then say sorry, can’t view the report. OIG website is shutdown—no money! It’s slick as a fox, for sure.

No, it isn’t a quote from President Trump, like some would have you believe. If you are fortunate enough to not have a Washington Post subscription, I will spare you the bottom line up front, and let you know what the Washington Post really thinks about Veterans. The only thing scary this Halloween season isn’t my black cat, Rosie, but how the Washington Post truly feels about Veterans. I have always been a believer that the proof is in the pudding. Just give someone enough rope and—well, you know the rest.

I should have known the writing was on the wall the second the hearing coordinator uttered “the Judge today is Judge Cryan”. Its just about unheard of to say a Board judge is anti-Veteran. Afterall, the whole point of working for the VA is about helping Veterans. Most judges go above and beyond to help our Veterans, especially ones like “Brad”. Brad never stepped foot in Vietnam, instead he was in nearby Thailand. He got the same douse of Agent Orange, though, as if he had been in Vietnam. As a result, Brad is ate up with leukemia—severely disabled is an understatement. However, Judge Cryan has her doubts.

It feels good to be writing again. Once this new administration got settled in, it has been Life in the Fast Lane, buddy. Even as I write this, the decisions are still rolling in hot. Yet, I wanted to take the time to tell you about another Home Town Hero, Major James Capers, Jr. With your help, he just might receive the Medal of Honor. Better late than never, right?

Its hard to believe how fast this year has been. It seems like just last week, I was writing about Thanksgiving. Christmas always comes as a time of reflection, of what we have accomplished within the past year. It also comes as a time to gather with family, laugh with loved ones, and glare from the window as your family’s version Cousin Eddie pulls in the driveway. For others, its a time to remember loved ones. The Buras family is no exception. This Christmas, I would like to introduce the Hometown Heroes series. Our featured hero comes from my hometown, Senior Airman Michael J. Buras.